Bella

“Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.”
― John Keats

“But how,” said Charles, who was close to tears, “how can you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?’
Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“What can be explained is not poetry.”
― W.B. Yeats

“I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
― W.B. Yeats